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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539891">it kills us just a little</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter'>lostresidentevilpotter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What If? [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fear the Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:49:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone except Alicia dies when the stadium falls. On her mission to wipe out the last Vulture, she meets a journalist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Althea &amp; Alicia Clark, Althea/Alicia Clark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>What If? [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1456003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know! I have an ongoing project, and I've got half of the next chapter written for it. This was just a quick side thing to keep the creative juices flowing. It's not really long, but I've broken it all up into a bunch of short chapters. The warnings on this fic are mostly to be safe. </p><p>The title of this fic is lifted from the ARIZONA song Find Someone. Hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She spills their blood. She kills every last one of them. One by one. She tracks them meticulously, locates Vultures when they’re alone, or in pairs, and kills them, messily. By the time she gets down to the most important Vultures, to the ones she’s been aching to kill, she’s covered in blood. Figuratively and literally.</p><p> </p><p>She kills Mel, but it doesn’t bring her the relief she’s expecting. She sits and watches him die slowly from the gunshot to the chest, watches him choke on his own blood, and waits for him to get back up. Killing him the second time doesn’t bring relief, either. Just splatters more blood across her jeans. She spits on the body then questions herself about why as she hops back into her pickup.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t come up with an answer, but the question stops bothering her once the truck is moving. She cranks up the stereo, drowning out her thoughts with the sound of a heavy metal CD she stole from one of the nameless Vultures she killed. She doesn’t know how she’s going to find the last two Vultures. She knows they’re out there. Naomi and Charlie. The worst two, in Alicia’s opinion, even when she includes Mel and Ennis.</p><p> </p><p>But she can worry about her strategy for finding Naomi and Charlie after she gets some rest.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>21</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It has been twenty-one days since the Vultures brought the Dell Diamond Baseball Stadium to its knees. Twenty-one days since everyone Alicia had left in the world was killed in the resulting fight with the walkers that the Vultures had unleashed on them.</p><p> </p><p>Madison.</p><p> </p><p>Nick.</p><p> </p><p>Luciana.</p><p> </p><p>Strand.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone who lived in that stadium, except for Alicia.</p><p> </p><p>And Naomi. Alicia saw her flee towards the Vultures shortly after Alicia had managed to free herself, albeit with severe burns lining her arms, seared permanently into her palms. She saw Mel accept her when Naomi made it without injury, already knowing how valuable her skills could be given that she’d saved him once. Standing with Mel was Charlie, the kid. The spy. The one who made the fall of the stadium possible in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>She’s, like, twelve, but Alicia still intends to kill her. Maybe once they’re all dead, she’ll find some peace.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>25</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Alicia supposes they could be anywhere in the country by now. But she bets Charlie, at least, hasn’t gotten far. She’s twelve. She doesn’t know how to drive. She’s probably more concerned with eating and not dying than she is with crossing the country, even if she knows Alicia’s after her.</p><p> </p><p>But Naomi? Given what Alicia knows about her, she’s probably long gone. She’s probably far from Texas, and Alicia wouldn’t know where to start to look. But maybe it’ll give her a reason to keep going, now that everyone else is gone.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>27</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Locating Charlie requires a lot less effort than Alicia had been expecting. Alicia was right: the kid hadn’t gone far. Charlie doesn’t look surprised to see her, doesn’t even fight her. Alicia draws her Glock emotionlessly. Charlie merely stares at her, waits for it to be over.</p><p> </p><p>The gunshot will bring in the dead for miles. Alicia flees the scene quickly, dropping the Glock onto the passenger’s seat of her truck like it’s something dirty. She drives until she’s certain she’s far enough away from the scene to be safe from the threat of the dead then pulls off the road.</p><p> </p><p>She screams until her throat is hoarse then sleeps for twelve hours in the backseat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>28</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Shit!”</p><p> </p><p>Alicia’s eyes pop open. Her blood runs cold. She scrambles to reach the Glock in the front, and she can already hear the person – whoever it is – outside of the truck rushing to pull a weapon of their own. Alicia launches herself into the front, scoops up the Glock, and dives out of the truck. She points the Glock at the intruder at the same moment the intruder points a rifle back at her. Alicia’s chest heaves with every breath as her eyes quickly study the woman’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Who the fuck are you?” Alicia finally manages to ask. The woman looks her over, eyes pausing at the dried blood staining Alicia’s flannel shirt and jeans. Some of it is dried on her neck, too. Her hands. Her face.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re alive,” the woman replies.</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t answer my question.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman shrugs and lowers the rifle. Alicia balks at the woman’s apparent lack of concern for her own safety; Alicia does not lower the Glock, continuing to point it at the woman’s head, finger braced on the trigger. Her hair is concealed by a beanie, and she’s wearing multiple layers. It’s still early in the morning by Alicia’s estimates. The temperature will start to rise sooner or later, making the woman’s jacket unnecessary.</p><p> </p><p>As the woman slings the rifle over her shoulder, she answers, “I’m Al. Now, who the fuck are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Alicia almost smiles. She lowers the Glock, but she isn’t stupid enough to holster it, isn’t stupid enough to trust this woman right away, in spite of her nonchalant demeanor. “Alicia,” she says.</p><p> </p><p>Al’s teeth sink into her lower lip as she nods and jams her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “So, Alicia? What the hell’s your story?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will update you're the only thing that i love (it scares me more everyday) eventually, hopefully soon. I have a pretty good track record at completing stories so far, and I do not intend to leave it unfinished. Often I've found writing little side projects has helped. Anyway, I'll roll this story out fairly quickly, because most of it is written, and I like having something to share with you all while we wait for season 6.</p><p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>28</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>She isn’t about to spill her entire life’s story to some stranger who happened to come across her truck while she was asleep, but that doesn’t mean Alicia can’t try to get some information out of her. Alicia has to admit, she’s intrigued by Al. The van she travels in isn’t something any old civilian would’ve had access to before all this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You aren’t going to answer my questions, are you?” Al asks after maybe an hour passes. They’ve had breakfast, a courtesy on Al’s part – or maybe it’s more like a bribe. Al’s been bombarding Alicia with questions since Alicia was dumb enough to answer one. “Is the blood yours?” Al asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia doesn’t think, just instinctively answers, “No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whose is it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now Alicia pauses. “That’s none of your business,” she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll see about that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now, for the past hour, Al’s been pestering Alicia nonstop. “What’s with all the questions?” Alicia asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a journalist,” Al says. “It’s what I do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia stands from her seat on the top step of the van. Maybe if she ignores Al, she’ll go away. Unlikely but worth a shot. She can feel Al’s eyes boring into the back of her head as she walks back toward her truck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Name your price.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia whirls around, eyebrows shooting toward her hairline. “What?” she sputters. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For your story. What do you want?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not telling you my story,” Alicia insists. “No matter what you think you can offer me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s nothing you want?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia hesitates as her mind flickers to Naomi. “Is this what you do, Al? Go around, harassing people for their stories?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t call it harassment. It’s a deal. A transaction.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You meet a lot of people.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure,” Al says warily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You ever meet someone called Naomi?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al thinks for a long moment, even pulling the beanie off her head and running her fingers through her flattened hair. Then Al shakes her head. “Not that I remember. Who was she?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A nurse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve talked to any nurses. Just a surgeon. But who is she to you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their eyes lock. Alicia’s jaw clenches. “She’s part of the reason everyone I love is dead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al blurts, perhaps unwisely, “I would give anything to hear your story.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This time, Alicia smirks. “I want you to swear to help me find Naomi.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al’s jaw hangs open for a few moments while she thinks over the implications of that request. “You have no idea where she could be, do you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s been twenty-eight days,” Alicia answers. “For all I know, she’s in fucking Maine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al nods slowly. “Let’s start with your story. Then we’ll see what kind of a deal we can work out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>29</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia lies awake that night, unable to sleep in a new environment. It’s more than just that, though. She’d told Al everything she could think of about the stadium – on camera, on top of it. She’d spilled every last detail. How they founded the stadium. Their struggles with the Vultures. Naomi’s arrival. Charlie pretending to join them just to report back to Mel. The walkers, doused in gasoline then set aflame. The way the fire spread, the way Alicia barely escaped. She’d even pushed up the sleeves of her bloodied flannel, displaying the fresh burn scars for the camera, for an audience Alicia will never know about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al had gone quiet then. She’d preserved the moment on film, but she seemed to be at a loss for words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m the last one,” Alicia concluded. “Except for Naomi, wherever she is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you want with her?” Al whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want her dead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The camera shut off then. Alicia didn’t say anything about the fate of the rest of the Vultures.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al hadn’t asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al, to her credit, spent the rest of the day acting like she’d never heard the horrific story. She didn’t offer up any details about herself – not a full name, or where she was from, or what people she’d encountered – but she didn’t ask about the stadium anymore, either. They ate lunch, moved all of Alicia’s belongings into the van – because if they’re going to travel together to hunt down Naomi, why drive separately? – and ate dinner as the sun started to set.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now – Alicia lies awake. She’s pretty certain Al’s asleep on the opposite side of the van, wrapped in a sleeping bag with her beanie pulled down over her eyes. If she’s not asleep, Al’s doing a pretty damn good job at pretending to be. Alicia falls into a light, uneasy slumber when the sun starts to rise. She hears when Al gets up, just a couple hours later, hears her stumble around the van, doing God knows what.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Alicia, you gotta get up,” Al says, nudging Alicia’s shoulder. “We should get going.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So Alicia gets up and puts on fresh clothes for the first time in a long time. There’s not a trace of blood on her anymore. Not literally, at least. Figuratively, Alicia’s drowning in blood. And maybe Al suspects that, but she can’t be certain. Al never asked, and Alicia didn’t offer up information that Al didn’t ask for. And Al never asked what happened to the Vultures after the stadium fell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia joins Al in the front of the van, and they get going. Alicia agrees to head back for the stadium, partially so Al can see for herself what happened, but maybe Alicia can find some clue as to where Naomi might’ve run off to, where she might’ve headed for. It’ll take most of the day to reach the stadium, and Alicia expects to squeeze a nap in somewhere.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al has other plans. Al asks questions, tries to squeeze any ounce of information out of Alicia about her past. Alicia should probably just answer the questions while the camera isn’t rolling, just to get Al off her back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where were you from?” Al asks, sparing a glance over at Alicia. Alicia catches her staring out of the corner of her eye, but Alicia just keeps staring out the windshield at the road ahead of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The Dell Diamond stadium.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Before the stadium.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where were you from?” Alicia retorts. “Before this van.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dallas,” Al answers, much to Alicia’s surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a long moment spent in stunned silence, Alicia mutters, “Los Angeles.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was told Los Angeles is gone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Long gone.” Alicia pauses. “Why do you even care?” she questions. She finally turns her head to look at Al, practically a stranger. It’s actually pretty damn stupid of Alicia to willingly travel with someone she doesn’t know – but what are her options? Everyone is dead. She can’t live the rest of her life completely alone. She has to take a chance, especially if she wants to find Naomi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Believe it or not, all of this matters,” Al answers. “Everything that’s happened to us matters.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because someone in the future will want to know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. deal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>29</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia’s eyes fall on the charred gates surrounding the stadium. She swallows hard, but her mouth has gone dry. She knows the horrors that the inside of the stadium holds. The parking lot is bad enough. They can’t even get the van close to the gates. The parking lot is littered with charred bodies – maybe walkers, maybe human. There’s no way to know which is which. People that forced their way out and tried to flee just to find themselves engulfed in flames. Those people let the walkers in before they could get the gates closed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia can still see their faces –</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You okay?” Al asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia jumps. She clears her throat, says, “Fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So what’s the plan?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can’t go in,” Alicia says. “There’s too many of them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then what are we here for?” Al questions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia flings the door open. “Follow me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They maneuver their way through the sea of bodies, burnt beyond recognition. It makes Alicia sick to think maybe she knew them. She knows none of the bodies out here belong to the people she loved most. They all died inside. She knows that much. Alicia leads Al around back to the field behind the stadium. Near the back entrance, the stadium’s vehicles are still parked in a line. Including the truck that belonged to Naomi. She didn’t have the keys when she fled, Alicia knows. The fact that the truck is here proves it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re here for a truck?” Al asks in disbelief. Alicia shoots her a withering look then pulls the gun barrel from her hip. Al fumbles to reach for the handgun at her own hip, but before she ever gets a chance to reach it, Alicia swings and shatters the truck’s window. Al freezes then drops her hands as Alicia hooks the barrel back on her belt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Calm down,” Alicia says. She pops the lock on the driver’s door and yanks it open. “If I wanted to kill you, I already would have.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Comforting,” Al sneers. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looking for any clues Naomi may have left.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia ransacks the truck, searches every inch, until she finally dumps the contents of a backpack on the grass and comes up with a journal. She flips through the pages, skimming through Naomi’s neat, cursive handwriting until she comes up with two locations: a FEMA shelter and a cabin. Alicia slaps the journal into Al’s hands and points out the two pages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is where we go next,” she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Alicia lies down in the back of Al’s van that night, she sleeps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>30</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“How do you know only you and Naomi escaped?” Al asks the next morning over breakfast. Alicia’s eyes lift and peer across the van where Al’s sitting, legs spread, plastic fork with a pear slice speared on the end hovering in front of her mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know,” Alicia answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I saw them die,” she snaps. “Can we just finish breakfast?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al shrugs, like this is a normal Tuesday for her. Talking about death over breakfast with a stranger. Except, Alicia supposes, maybe Al doesn’t think of her as a total stranger. They’ve known each other two whole days, and Al knows more about Alicia now than anyone else left alive. And Alicia still knows next to nothing about Al. She knows Al is from Dallas, and she knows that Al is a journalist. That’s it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I figured out where the FEMA shelter is,” Al informs. She finishes off her pears and holds her hand out as an offer to take Alicia’s garbage. “It’s only about an hour from here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But the cabin,” Al continues after she ditches the trash, “I have no clue. Haven’t seen any cabins around here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The journal said it was on a creek,” Alicia says. “How many creeks can there be around here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have no way of knowing that cabin is around here,” Al points out. “Maybe it’s a cabin in Louisiana. Maybe it’s in fucking Michigan. We don’t know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have to try,” Alicia insists.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have to find her?” Al questions. “You can’t just let it go? Move forward?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia jumps to her feet, snarling, “There <em>is </em>no moving forward! Not like this. You don’t get it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al holds her hands up in surrender. “I do, actually. And it <em>is </em>possible to move forward –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Even when everyone I love is dead?” Alicia scoffs. “Fuck you, Al. I gave you my story. Now hold up your end of the bargain, and help me find Naomi.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t forget our final deal,” Al says, pointing a finger at Alicia. “One week. If we don’t find her in one week, I’m done. I’ll have held up my end. You have five more days.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So let’s get going,” Alicia says. “We check the FEMA shelter. We look for a cabin. And then you can drop me somewhere and go on your way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al waits until they’re seated up front to ask, “Why do you want her dead so badly?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia inhales sharply. “She joined the people who killed my family.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The…Vultures?” Al says. Alicia nods. “But why are you so interested in Naomi specifically?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia exhales. “She’s the last Vulture left.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>30</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“What do you mean she’s the last one left?” Al asks. “The rest of the Vultures – they’re dead?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is the conversation Alicia’s been dreading, but she already decided she won’t lie. She watches Al process this information and form her next question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How? What happened to them?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia’s eyes close. She’s silent so long, Al works out the answer for herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You,” Al guesses. “You killed them all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The van slams to a halt, the tires screeching on the pavement. Alicia’s eyes pop back open, and she automatically goes for the Glock holstered at her hip. She pulls it a half a second faster than Al pulls her own handgun. They both flick off the safety and aim their guns at each other at the same time. Alicia is too calm while Al’s dark eyes are wide, lips parted, breath coming in shallow puffs. But neither of them have their finger on the trigger. Yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why?” Al asks quietly. “Why did you kill them all?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They took everything I had left,” Alicia whispers. “What else was I supposed to do? Let them do that to someone else? Again? I solved a problem. I made this shitty world a little bit better. Maybe you should thank me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. They’re both still pointing guns at each other’s head, but only Alicia is unfazed. Death doesn’t scare her anymore. She’s lost everything. If Al wants to splatter Alicia’s brains against the window behind her and make a mess of her van, she can be Alicia’s guest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t you tell me a kid infiltrated the stadium? Spied on you? Reported back to the Vultures?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Charlie.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. What happened to her?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia smiles thinly. “She’s dead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al’s eye twitches, but the answer doesn’t seem to surprise her. If anything, maybe Alicia’s blunt honesty surprises her. For the first time, as Al lowers her gun, it occurs to Alicia that maybe Al’s met people worse than her. Alicia lowers her Glock, holsters it again. Then Al grumbles, “Let’s just get this search fucking over with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia blinks. “You aren’t going to force me to get out?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I made a deal. I don’t go back on deals,” Al replies. They start moving again. Al speaks under her breath, and Alicia just barely hears her say, “I just hope we don’t find this woman.”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>31</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The FEMA center is full of walkers. Literally jammed with them. There’s no way Naomi’s living there now. She would’ve never come back here, and now Alicia’s wasted time on that. They spend the rest of the day scouring maps for any bodies of water, marking them off as places to try to visit in search of Naomi, even if the cabin might not be in Texas. She’d written about a man – John – that she was afraid she was getting too close with, so she fled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia reads the journal back to front three times, committing the important passages to memory. She should be sleeping, but instead, she finishes the journal for the third time. The cabin is John’s, and Naomi wrote that when she left without telling him, she made it to the stadium within the day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!” Alicia shouts. She doesn’t know how she missed this detail before, but the third read did the trick. She throws the journal across the aisle and watches it bounce off Al’s arm. Al grunts and rolls over. “Al!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Al mumbles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The cabin is in Texas,” Alicia says. She throws her blankets back and gets to her feet. She switches on a few more lights to force Al to wake up, even though it’s well past two in the morning now. Al pushes her hands into her hair, holding it back from her face, as she squints up at Alicia.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? How do you know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s in the journal,” Alicia says. “It took Naomi less than a day to get to the stadium from the cabin. The cabin belongs to some guy named John. It has to be here in Texas.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al nods then presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “You had to tell me now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, we wasted a day,” Alicia says, fighting a smirk even though Al can’t see her. “I thought you should know I made progress.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All you really did was eliminate the rest of the country as an option,” Al says. Her hands fall from her face. Alicia scoops the journal up off the floor and tosses it onto Al’s stomach before returning to her side of the van. “Hey! Turn the lights off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Read the passage,” Alicia orders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al drops the journal onto the floor. “In the morning. We need to sleep if we want to have any chance at finding this place.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s right. Reluctantly, Alicia gets up and shuts all the lights off. She drifts off and sees the stadium burning, clear as day. Sees Nick step in front of a walker to save Luci, hears him scream as the walker’s teeth sink into his neck. She sees Luci kill the walker and pry its body away from Nick, moments before another walker converges on them. Alicia can’t reach them now, just like she couldn’t reach them then. She sees Madison urging Alicia to run, to get out, however possible. If it’s possible. Alicia tries to drag Madison with her, but Madison tears free, says something about going back for Strand, about not leaving him behind. Alicia feels the panic cause her chest to tighten as she searches for a way out. If the walkers or the flames don’t get her, the smoke inhalation might.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia can’t reach her mom or Strand, either. She can’t get through the flames, and it’d take way too long to go all the way around. She can only get out and hope others escape, too. She burns herself on the way, can’t avoid it. The walker catches her by surprise, and she shoves it back with her forearms, palms touching its chest, before she realizes what she’s doing. The thought of being bitten scares her first and foremost, more than fire ever will. The pain is unbearable, but she escapes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No one else does. No one except <em>her</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have this entire project written, so I'll put out chapters as I finish editing them. I'm hoping one a day.</p>
<p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>31</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia wakes up drenched in sweat. All the more reason for her to kill Naomi. Maybe once she’s dead, Alicia won’t close her eyes and have to see the stadium anymore. (She knows this isn’t true, but she lets herself think it’s a possibility anyway.) She’d mapped out a route with Al last night, and they think they can visit three spots in one day. If they’re lucky, maybe there’ll be a cabin on one of the creeks. If they’re even luckier, maybe Naomi will be there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia tries not to get her hopes up, and as the day wears on, she becomes more and more convinced that she won’t find Naomi before Al leaves her behind in four days. Everywhere they go, they find no cabin. The last stop barely qualifies as a body of water at all. Must be drying up. They park the van there for the night and eat dinner alongside the sort-of-creek. The water probably wouldn’t even completely cover Alicia’s boot if she stepped into it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll try again in the morning,” Al assures her. “Three more possible locations.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We won’t find it,” Alicia replies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not with that attitude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia rolls her eyes and turns her head to stare off into the distance so Al won’t see her smile. “You’re hoping we don’t find her,” Alicia reminds. “So what do you care?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I won’t help you kill her,” Al informs. “That was never part of the deal. But I’m doing what I can to find her, and if we do…well, at least I won’t be completely responsible for her death, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you’re involved.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al shrugs. “I can live with myself.” She chews pointedly, swallows, then points her fork at Alicia and asks, “But can you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s too late to be asking questions like that,” Alicia mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s never too late to change.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Spare me the lecture, Al. I’ve made my decision. This is my life now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It can be different.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al nods. “Three more tomorrow,” Al says. “And if there’s no cabin and no Naomi, then we’ll try again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>32</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia lies awake until midnight, but she’s almost positive Al’s awake, too. Her breathing is too unsteady for her to be asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You aren’t sleeping,” Alicia finally says, somewhere around one o’clock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Neither are you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You try sleeping with the weight of your dead family on your shoulders,” Alicia replies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do,” Al says simply, and Alicia chokes on air. When the silence becomes unbearable, Alicia rolls to stare across the van at Al.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who are you?” Alicia asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al snickers. “What kind of a question is that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A serious one,” Alicia says. “You know all about the worst day of my life, and I know that you’re a journalist from Dallas. That’s it. Literally. So who are you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who I am doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s Al short for?” Alicia presses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This time, Al gives her a real answer. “Althea.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Althea,” Alicia says, just to test the name out for herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can just keep calling me Al,” Al says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will. <em>Althea </em>is a mouthful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They both laugh tiredly until Al says, “You think that’s a mouthful? You should hear my last name.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al makes a noncommittal sound and rolls over. “Maybe some other time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s code for <em>I’m never gonna tell you</em>, isn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how things go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What does that even mean?” Alicia asks. When Al doesn’t answer, Alicia throws her blanket back and sits up. “Is this how you live your life, Al? You collect people’s stories, but you never share your own with anyone? Is that how it goes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a shitty way to live.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I didn’t judge you for slaughtering the Vultures,” Al says indignantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You pulled a gun on me!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You pulled a gun on me first!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because I thought you were going to pull a gun on me!” Alicia exclaims. “Besides, the fact that I killed the Vultures – who murdered my entire community, in case you forgot – has nothing to do with the way you live.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The way I live is none of your concern.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t get lonely?” Alicia questions. “Being out here, all by yourself?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I meet people all the time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Still. They never know you. They come and go. You don’t want…people? A community?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al inhales sharply then hisses, “Look what happened to your community, Alicia. I could do without that kind of pain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you settle for an entirely different kind of pain. Got it,” Alicia says. She lies back down and pulls the blanket up to her neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You won’t change me, Alicia,” Al replies. “People have tried. Every single one has failed. You won’t be any different.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then just help me find Naomi so I can be on my way,” Alicia snaps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where are you gonna go after this?” Al asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where I’m gonna go is none of your concern,” Alicia says wryly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you weren’t such a smartass, maybe I would’ve offered to take you there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I doubt it.” Alicia sighs. “Look, I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I’m getting the hell out of Texas. This state has taken enough from me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. hot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>32</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Three more locations, zero cabins. They cross them off the map, and Alicia resists the urge to tear the map to pieces and throw them in the latest body of water, one that actually qualifies as a creek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe we’ll have more luck tomorrow,” Al says. She jams her hands into her pockets and offers Alicia a small smile before she turns her gaze out on the creek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Or maybe I should just give up and move on with my life,” Alicia mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You could do that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s just one problem.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t have a life left to move on with,” Alicia says. “My life is gone. All of it. There’s nothing left.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought that too, at one point,” Al admits.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, and? You’re still here. What’s the secret?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al shrugs. “You find something to keep you going.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s terrible advice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al smirks. “Then there’s a gun at your hip, Alicia. No one’s stopping you from using it except you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, well, if I use it, I’m gonna commit a murder-suicide.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al laughs, and Alicia finds herself unable to stop herself from joining in. When Al pulls it together, she says, “You can try. We’ll see who’s faster.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hate you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al’s smile flickers a little, but she says softly, “You don’t even know me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia’s joking demeanor slides altogether. “And I never will,” she says. There’s maybe a hint of bitterness in Alicia’s tone, something that causes Al’s expression to shift. Alicia can’t get a good read on Al. Al is very good at controlling herself – her face, her emotions. There’s nothing in the van that gives anything real away about Al. No visible photographs of loved ones, not even anything that would indicate that Al is from Dallas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia bends down and picks up a decent sized rock. With a grunt, she hurls it into the creek, watches it splash into the mucky water. The sun is about to set. They’ve wasted another day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My last name is Szewczyk-Przygocki,” Al says out of nowhere. “My parents were Polish. And as if one of those names isn’t bad enough, they went for the hyphenated thing because obviously they wanted to make my life a living hell. But now I guess it doesn’t really matter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia nods in acknowledgement, not really sure what to say. She’d completely forgotten about their conversation the night before. Hell, she woke up thinking maybe their conversation was entirely a dream of hers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s go,” Alicia finally says. “I’m starting to feel like staring at creeks is becoming our thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have a thing?” Al teases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s starting to feel like we do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right,” Al agrees. “Let’s get out of here before we <em>have a thing</em> or whatever.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia rolls her eyes. “We don’t have a thing,” she mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We could.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al chuckles and shrugs. “Worth a shot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up. You’re only here still because we made a deal. I know you can’t wait to get rid of me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t…mind your presence,” Al says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia snorts. “Could you sound any more insincere?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al grins. “I probably could. Should I try?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia shakes her head and follows Al back into the van. “You’re a dick,” Alicia says, shoving at Al’s arm playfully. Al’s grin widens, and she locks them in the van for the night. If Alicia ever had any concerns about Al killing her, she’s lost them all. She kicks her boots off, sheds all her weapons and tucks them beneath her makeshift bed. She tosses her jacket onto the passenger’s seat for tomorrow’s journey then throws herself down onto the seats in the back, exhaling heavily. “You know,” Alicia says as Al strips down for the night, “I’ve already forgotten your name.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In response, Al whips her flannel shirt across the van at Alicia. Alicia tries to block it, but it still lands on her face. Alicia whips it right back at Al, missing completely and giving Al the perfect opportunity to laugh at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Szewczyk-Przygocki,” Al says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sandwich-Parmesan,” Alicia jokes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Real mature,” Al sneers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m never going to remember that,” Alicia replies. She props her head up on her hand, eyebrows pulling together as Al ditches her pants and doesn’t replace them with anything. “You could write it down, and I still wouldn’t remember – are you seriously sleeping without pants?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al finishes yanking a plain T-shirt over her head and shrugs. “Yeah. It’s gonna be a hot one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not hot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not yet. But it will be.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When did you become a meteorologist?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I grew up in Texas. I’ve gotten good at predicting the weather.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>33</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia wakes up at three in the morning from another nightmare, sweating her ass off. She tosses the blanket to the ground and goes to get water. The sleeping bag she’s been lying on is soaked with her sweat, but she doesn’t know if she wants to take her chances with the bare metal of the seats. She can already imagine peeling her skin off of that in the morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But goddamn it, Al was right. It’s a hot night. She seems to be sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed, blissfully unaware that Alicia is chugging water three feet away from her. And as Alicia finishes off a bottle of water, suppressing a sigh of contentment as she swallows her last mouthful, an unexpected and rather interesting thought pops into her brain as she – perhaps creepily – watches Al sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Al’s got a nice jawline. </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia ponders over that thought for a long while, standing at the end of Al’s set of seats next to the case of water. Hmm. While Al’s jawline is certainly pronounced given the current angle of Al’s head, Alicia’s first, rather innocent, thought leads to an inevitable line of thinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I mean, I guess Al’s an objectively attractive person – wait, what am I doing?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia shakes her head and disposes of the empty water bottle; Al is very particular about how to handle any trash in her van. Alicia returns to her side and flips the sleeping bag over, hoping her sweat didn’t soak all the way through. She gets lucky. It did not. She lies down and her back and stares at the ceiling. It’s too hot to fall back to sleep. Alicia is vividly aware that every inch of her body is covered in a sheen of sweat, vividly aware of how her shirt sticks to her back and her front.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And before she drifts off, her last discernible thought is, <em>how the fuck did Al predict the weather correctly?</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Good news: I'm hoping to have the next chapter of you're the only thing that i love (it scares me more every day) up within the next few days! So stay tuned for that.</p>
<p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>33</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>They find a cabin at the last stop of the day, but it’s in shambles, practically crumbling in on itself. There’s no way anyone has lived here within the last ten years, let alone the last ten months, so this can’t be the cabin Naomi wrote about in her journal. Alicia, by now, has the journal nearly committed to memory. She can recite entire passages, if she wants to. The journal made it sound like John permanently lived in the cabin and spent most of his time there, so this definitely isn’t it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia can’t contain her frustration this time. She curses loudly, lets off a whole string of colorful words, actually, and throws a nearby brick through one of the cabin’s windows. As she’s winding her arm back, another brick in hand – this one intended for the front door hanging on just by one hinge – Al grabs her by the forearm. Alicia falters, and Al pries the brick from her fingers, dropping it safely to the grass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We need to go,” Al says calmly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What does it fucking matter if –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We passed a group of walkers on our way in,” Al cuts in. “You can have a full meltdown in the van on our way out of here, if you’d like, but I’d rather not give walkers a chance to surround us or block us in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s right. Again. Alicia hates how level headed this woman can be. But Alicia huffs and returns to the van. They pass a small herd on their way back to the main road, headed for the cabin Alicia almost tried to single-handedly destroy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We aren’t going to find her,” Alicia says once Al picks a spot to park for the night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ve still got tomorrow,” Al says evenly. Right. Tomorrow. And then the day after, Al will drop Alicia off somewhere and be on her way, never to be seen again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s gone,” Alicia replies. “I might as well give up now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did killing the rest of the Vultures help?” Al asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What kind of a question is that?” Alicia huffs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al smiles. “A serious one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe later. I have to check my schedule,” Al says nonchalantly. As an indignant look crosses Alicia’s face, an angry retort ready to be fired off, Al quickly adds, “Please. Just answer the question.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you <em>mean </em>did it help?” Alicia grumbles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did it make you feel better?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia hesitates. “No. But it solved a problem. They can’t bring down any more settlements if they aren’t alive.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I suppose that’s a fair point. I don’t get why you killed the kid, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She betrayed us. And so did Naomi. At least the leaders didn’t pretend like they weren’t assholes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay,” Al says. Alicia blinks. But Al just accepts her answer, doesn’t pry for anything more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay,” Al repeats. “But we’re still going to look for Naomi tomorrow. I have to hold up my end of the deal. And if you don’t think killing her will help you, then don’t kill her. And if you want to kill her, then kill her. That’s all up to you. She helped destroy your community, not mine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know a lot about you, Al, but sometimes, you make no sense.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al grins and winks. “That’s how I like it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t wink at me,” Alicia grumbles. “It’s creepy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al shrugs and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Goodnight,” she says. She disappears into the back, and Alicia hears her rustling around, changing and getting her bed set up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hot or cold?” Alicia asks. She finally unbuckles her own seatbelt and trudges into the back. She watches Al pause, watches her head tilt a little, watches her really think about the question, as if this is a serious matter. It’s an action that’s sort of…endearing. For a near stranger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think tonight’s going to be warm. Not unbearable, like last night,” Al answers. “Tomorrow will cool off, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How the fuck do you know that?” Alicia laughs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t <em>know </em>it,” Al replies. She flashes Alicia a grin and climbs beneath her blankets. “I said, I <em>think</em>. I can be wrong.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With that, Al lies down for the night, leaving Alicia to change and switch off all the lights. Alicia lies awake again, but this time, it’s because her mind won’t shut off. She’s dreading the sunrise, dreading her last full day with Al, dreading the futile search for John’s cabin and Naomi. She doesn’t know what she’s dreading more: the possibility of finding Naomi or the possibility of <em>not </em>finding her before Al leaves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She knows one thing for sure, though: she’s dreading Al leaving her behind, and she barely even knows Al.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Somehow, midterm season is already upon me. Any delays in my ongoing projects at this point are mostly due to that.</p>
<p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. empty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>34</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>It’s almost six p.m. when they reach the last stop. Alicia’s pretty sure it’s the last body of water within a day’s distance of the stadium. Right away, there’s something different about this creek. Namely, there’s a cabin sitting on it. And the cabin doesn’t look abandoned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, shit,” Al breathes. Alicia sits up straighter, eyes locked on the cabin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This has to be it,” Alicia says. There’s even a pickup truck parked on the side of the cabin, a fishing boat on the side facing the creek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Someone definitely lives here,” Al agrees. The van stops. Engine shuts off. “I’ll be here,” Al says. She hesitates. “I hope they don’t kill you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia lets her eyes close, inhales deeply. “I don’t know,” she says once she’s released the breath, once her eyes have reopened. “I think I kind of hope that they do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al catches Alicia’s wrist before she can leave the van. “If you’re going in there to let them kill you –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia impatiently shakes her wrist free. “Frankly, that’s none of your business, Al. We aren’t friends. Don’t get the wrong idea.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia gets out of the van and pulls the Glock from its holster. It’s fully loaded. She knows. She’s checked numerous times. It’s almost a nervous tic now, checking the magazine. She doesn’t look back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a five minute affair. Not even. Under five minutes. She walks right in. Door isn’t locked. She’s already two steps ahead of the cabin’s occupants. They aren’t expecting anyone, so their weapons aren’t right within reach. Alicia’s eyes lock onto Naomi, and she raises the gun, but a man – John? Must be John – steps in front of her. No matter. Alicia has nothing against this man, and she’s close enough to lower the Glock and easily blow out his kneecap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He collapses to the ground with a sharp cry, clutching at his knee. It’s not a fatal injury, necessarily. With proper medical treatment –</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But that’s none of Alicia’s concern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“John!” Naomi shrieks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t,” Alicia says, Glock aimed at Naomi’s head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“June, don’t!” John grunts. “I’m alright! Listen to her!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alicia,” Naomi says. “You don’t have to do this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A mirthless smile crosses Alicia’s face. “You’re right. I don’t have to do this,” Alicia agrees. “The same way the Vultures didn’t <em>have </em>to kill everyone in the stadium. The same way you didn’t <em>have </em>to join them, nonetheless. Everyone I love is dead, and you were part of that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Naomi swallows hard. She can’t even seem to argue against that. John reaches toward her, palm coated with fresh blood, but it’s too late. The Glock fires again, and Naomi hits the ground. John screams, and Alicia walks out, heart pounding in her throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s over. She’s all done. They’re all dead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So why does she feel so empty?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She walks calmly away from the cabin, leaving John behind. His screams carry from the cabin, even though the door is closed. The creek is calm, crickets chirp. Alicia almost reaches the van when she stops, suddenly, like she isn’t in control anymore. The Glock falls to the grass. They’re all dead, and what did it do? No one came back to life. God didn’t part the clouds and say <em>good job, you’re done now; you’ve avenged your loved ones</em>. Alicia feels exactly the same as she felt five minutes ago, before Naomi was dead, before a man Alicia doesn’t know was left in agony.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia’s knees hit the grass, just a few feet from where the Glock fell. Maybe she’s going to pass out. She feels a little lightheaded, but then it passes. She feels a little sick, too, but then it passes. She remembers them all. Madison and Nick and Strand and Luciana. But she remembers <em>them</em>, too. Mel and Ingrid and Charlie and Naomi. They’re all dead, but what does it matter? Alicia isn’t dead, and she doesn’t know what to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She doesn’t even know she’s screaming until Al’s yanking at her shirt, hauling her to her feet, yelling at her to <em>shut up before you draw something right to us</em>. Al drags Alicia into the back of the van and goes back for the Glock. Alicia knows, because she watches Al set the Glock on the dashboard before she drives off, John still screaming.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Alicia has gone silent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck happened?” Al demands. She looks over her shoulder at Alicia, slumped down on the seats, hands clasped together in her lap. “What happened?” Al almost shouts, but Alicia doesn’t react besides blinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then, Alicia inhales and says, “I killed her.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. stay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>34</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia doesn’t know how she manages to eat dinner. They’ve returned to a nearby creek they’d visited previously, mostly because neither of them knows where else to go and the area seems relatively quiet. They sit side by side on the creek bank. When Alicia finishes her meager meal, she pulls her boots and socks off, rolls her jeans up, and lets her feet rest in the cool water. The thought of a walker dragging itself to the shore from the creek’s murky depths crosses Alicia’s mind, but it doesn’t deter her. She’s becoming less and less concerned about the inevitability of her death. When it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. At least the Vultures can’t destroy more settlements.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did you do?” Al finally asks, breaking the almost hour long silence between them. “To the man. John? What did you do to him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia inhales deeply. “I blew out his kneecap,” she admits. “He stood in the way. But he has a chance to live, at least. I didn’t want to kill him outright.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You left him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wanted me to bring him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al hesitates. “I think I should go back. Help him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia nods curtly. “You held up your end of the deal. Do what you want.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t just leave you here,” Al says. “Not like this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al shakes her head. “No. I can’t leave while you’re acting like…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al smiles wryly. “Like you might throw yourself at any oncoming walker and end it all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I did what I set out to do,” Alicia says. “The Vultures are dead. And now…” She trails off and shrugs instead. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess I’ll have to look for something else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not supposed to leave until tomorrow anyway,” Al says. Alicia can tell Al is trying incredibly hard to act casual. “What’s one more night?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But John could bleed out overnight, which would make your trip back there pointless.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al sighs heavily. “You’re very optimistic, Alicia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You didn’t ask for optimism. You asked <em>what’s one more night</em>, and I told you what one more night could mean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al sighs again and chooses not to respond. Instead, she pulls off her boots and socks, rolls her pant legs, and wades into the creek. Alicia gets to her feet as Al steps past her, staring out at the blend of colors in the sky. Al doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that Alicia’s slowly creeping up on her until the split second before Alicia tackles her down into the water. The creek is only maybe a foot deep here, but it’s still enough to soak them both. Al comes up gasping for air, and Alicia surfaces, already laughing uncontrollably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Asshole!” Al gasps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia giggles and flips her hair out of her eyes. “I couldn’t resist. Creeks are our thing, remember?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Obviously,” Al replies, but she can’t fight off a smile, even as she rolls her eyes. “Come on,” Al says. She gets to her feet and offers Alicia a hand up. “Let’s go dry off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia waits until they’re in the back of the van, peeling their drenched clothes off of themselves, before she asks, “You really need to spend one more night with me, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m doing it for your own good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia hums. “Yeah. Sure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al sends Alicia a funny look. Al dries her hair to the best of her ability with a towel, while Alicia simply pulls hers back, staring at Al the entire time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You really want me to drop you off somewhere right now?” Al challenges. “It’ll be dark soon, and thanks to that little stunt you pulled, we’re both wet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia shrugs. “I think you’re looking for excuses. You want me to stay,” she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No one stays,” Al says softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because they don’t want to? Or because <em>you </em>don’t want them to?” Alicia questions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia shimmies out of her wet jeans, dropping them to the floor. “Sounds like a lonely existence,” Alicia says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I meet plenty of people.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But no one that matters,” Alicia says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t say –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No one that knows you better than anyone else,” Alicia amends. “That doesn’t bother you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know me better than anyone else left alive,” Alicia admits. She fights her way out of her shirt, flinging the wet cotton to the ground. “And that’s really depressing, actually,” Alicia continues. Al watches her warily, watches Alicia kick her wet clothes out of the way and not put anything else on. “Especially because I don’t know you,” Alicia says. “Like, at all. I know next to nothing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’re you doing?” Al asks as Alicia steps closer, pressing into Al’s space.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We both know I’m going to lie awake all night,” Alicia says. “And you’ll be gone tomorrow. Why should we waste our time?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you –?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, I get that you might not want to sleep with a murderer, but I’m about to be alone –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al finally catches on. She doesn’t wait for Alicia to continue her sudden rambling speech. Alicia’s right. Al knows her better than anyone else left alive. And Al can’t judge Alicia for what she’s done. She’s met people who’ve done worse for worse reasons. Al’s no saint herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And besides, it’s one night. Then Alicia will be gone. No better opportunity. So Al kisses Alicia, hard, and Al yanks off the dry shirt she’d just put on. Al had a rule in the old world – well, she had a bunch of rules, but this was one that carried over into this world. And that rule was: she doesn’t sleep with anyone she interviews. Not worth it. Can’t risk getting attached when she knows she won’t stick around long enough to build anything real.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She breaks that rule for the first time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just one more chapter after this! I'm really excited to share the final chapter with you guys in the next couple days, and then I'll get on editing the next chapter of you're the only thing that i love (it scares me more everyday).</p>
<p>As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. welcome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>35</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Alicia wakes up naked, pressed against a warm body, equally as naked as her own. Alicia sighs contentedly before her eyes even open. That was the best night’s sleep she’s gotten in – well, maybe years. Then there’s the little voice in the back of her head, telling her it’s been thirty-five days since everything changed forever. Reality comes crashing down, as it often does, and Alicia’s eyes pop open. She lifts her head off Al’s chest, detangles her legs from Al’s, and manages to get up without disturbing Al’s slumber. Quickly, Alicia throws her clothes on and gathers up her belongings. She packs the essentials into one backpack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia scoops up Al’s clothes but pauses a moment. She considers whether it’s worth it to try to convince Al to stay with her – or to try to convince Al simply to let her stay. She considers whether that’s what she actually wants herself. The idea of being alone for eternity – okay, maybe that’s dramatic. But Alicia doesn’t know how long she’ll be alone for. Is that something she can do? Is that something she <em>wants </em>to do?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia drops Al’s clothes onto her stomach, which startles Al awake. “Sorry,” Alicia says flatly. “But we should get going.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al grunts and sits up, starts pulling clothes on, still half-asleep. “You know where you wanna go?” Al asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia had picked the town a few days back. It’s small, but Alicia figures there’s a decent chance of finding some supplies there. Al finishes getting dressed without another word, and they head up front. The town is maybe twenty minutes away. They don’t speak the entire way, not until the van comes to a stop outside of a gas station.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So this is it,” Al says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guess so.” Alicia clears her throat. “Are you still going back for John?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al presses her lips together and nods. “What about you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia shrugs and unbuckles her seatbelt. “I’m not sure yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Promise me one thing,” Al says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia smirks. “Maybe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Promise me you’ll update me on whatever happens to you from here on out if our paths ever cross again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia laughs, but Al’s expression stays dead serious. “Yeah, sure,” Alicia says. “I guess I owe you one, Althea Szewczyk-Przygocki.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Al says softly. “You got that right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m full of surprises.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al holds her hand out, and Alicia stares at it for a long while. The gesture is understandable but kind of odd, considering they were naked together less than an hour before. Nonetheless, Alicia shakes Al’s hand then goes to retrieve her stuff. Alicia steps out of the van, squinting against the morning sunlight. The air is crisp, the Vultures are dead, and it feels like a new beginning for Alicia.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia’s surprised to see Al make her way around the van. She’d expected Al to drive off right away. “If you stay in the area,” Al says, holding out a walkie, “I’m usually on channel three. If you need anything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia nods and accepts the walkie. “Thank you,” she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Al says. “Just – take care of yourself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You too.” Alicia pauses then adds, “If you try to shake my hand again, I swear –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al grins, shaking her head, and holds her arms out instead. Alicia accepts the embrace, locking her arms around Al’s waist, resting her head against Al’s shoulder. Alicia lets her eyes close, lets herself enjoy the moment. Al’s hold on her is firm, and Alicia hates that she’s a little disappointed when Al claps her on the back a few times and starts to release her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Take it easy,” Al says. “And seriously, if you need anything,” Al points at the walkie hanging off Alicia’s belt, “call me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And what if I’m just lonely?” Alicia teases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Al chuckles, pushes her hair out of her eyes. “Channel three,” is all Al says. Alicia smiles and waves once Al’s behind the wheel again. She watches the van take off back in the direction of John’s cabin, and once it’s out of sight, Alicia heads into the gas station. There’s something strange about it, though. Shelves have been moved out of the way so a table could be set up with a TV on top of it. Alicia hesitates as she gets closer and spots a tape waiting to be played. Part of her wishes she’d discovered this while Al was still here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tape can’t hurt her. She plays it, watching as an image appears on the television. Alicia turns the volume up, watching curiously as a woman with red hair speaks. She’s wearing a blazer and a cowboy hat – an interesting combination, if you ask Alicia.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you’re watching this tape in particular, you’re actually in luck,” the woman announces, smiling widely. “You’re not far from our home base. It’s a place called Paradise Ridge. It’s right up the road. Hard to miss. Remember, we’re here to help. So please, feel free to stop by.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The tape ends. Alicia shuts the TV off and browses what remains in the gas station. She scrapes together enough food for the day and heads up the road. What’s she got to lose? Alicia takes her time and reaches Paradise Ridge around noon. They’re luxury condominiums, and there’s a person ready to greet her at the gate. He holds up a hand, and Alicia stops walking a few feet from the gate as her eyes fall on the rifle in his hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s your business here?” the man asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um…I saw a tape?” Alicia says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man nods and pulls a walkie off his belt, summons someone too quietly for Alicia to hear. “It’ll just be a minute,” he informs her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And it is just a minute. The redheaded woman appears seemingly out of nowhere and opens the gates, ushering Alicia inside. “So you saw our tape,” the woman says excitedly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s wonderful,” the woman says, beaming at Alicia. She motions for the man to shut the gates behind them. “And your name is?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alicia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alicia…?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alicia blinks. “Clark. Alicia Clark.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, Alicia Clark, my name’s Virginia. Folks around here call me Ginny. I’m so happy to welcome you to the Pioneers.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thank you for reading! You all have shown me so much support, and I can't thank you enough. Let me know what you think about the ending or the story as a whole in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible. Thank you all, and remember you can always find me on tumblr at blinkaftermidnight!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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